Rosemary
by sweetmisery324
Summary: Severus Snape is shipped off on a vacation he didn't want to take, with the last person he expected to find. HGSS Story complete, chapters will be posted every few days. Chapter 6 now up.
1. Chapter 1

The sunlight in Granada was liquid, flowing through windows and dripping off trees like shimmering molten gold. It poured into the fountains that stood sentry in every public square, mixing with the cool water, making it almost too radiant to gaze into. It bathed even the palest traveler's skin in a warm, forgiving glow that would last even after they returned to their normal, unilluminated lives.  
  
Severus Snape was disgusted.  
  
This was all Dumbledore's fault, he seethed, sending him here on the flimsy pretense of stocking up on organic potions ingredients. Snape did not know what sort of drug exactly the Headmaster was on, but he suspected it was also responsible for the appearance of something called "tofu" on the nightly dinner menu. In any case, the Headmaster had appeared at Severus's dungeon rooms and immobilized him in a chair while two of those horrible little house elves had rifled through his drawers and stuffed a suitcase with trousers, shirts, and - Severus flinched - underwear. Dumbledore had, with what Snape privately thought was a rather manic glint in his eye, explained that Severus would be departing for the considerably sunnier climes of Spain in approximately seven minutes. As it was the summer term, his schedule was open, and Peeves had given his solemn word to watch over the dungeons in Snape's absence (oddly, Snape was not much comforted). He was informed in no uncertain terms that he was not to return before Dumbledore instructed; if he did, Dobby would be given free reign to redecorate the dungeon chambers. Just before pushing him into the green flames that filled his fireplace, Dumbledore had slipped a paper into Snape's hand and looked him in the eye. "You need this, Severus. I will not have the man who saved the wold from Voldemort lost to his own melancholy." Then he'd given him a good hard shove, and Severus was hurtling through the network of chimneys, before being unceremoniously deposited on the richly tiled hearth of a small cafe. The proprietor was unfazed, and even offered him a small, stiff-bristled brush in an oddly solemn gesture. Severus rid his clothes of any lingering ash particles with short, sharp strokes, picked up his bag in as dignified a manner as possible, and fairly stalked out of the establishment.  
  
Dumbledore's sheer, unmitigated gall astounded him. Though Severus would be the last man alive to deny the debt he owed the old codger, it certainly did not give him the right to ship a person off on any harebrained scheme he conjured up in his addled mind without so much as a by-your-leave! Perhaps he _had_ been spending more time than usual in the his rooms and labs. What of it? Surely defeating one of the most powerful wizards who ever lived earned a bit of a respite. Not that he had exactly defeated him, per se. No, The Boy Who Lived And Went On To Claim Even More Bloody Worship And Adulation dealt the killing blow, of course. Severus had just kept Potter alive and in one piece until he got the chance to do it. And, of course, it was Potter on the front page of all the newspapers, Potter whom all the reporters and wellwishers wanted to talk to. Not that Snape envied him - if Rita Skeeter had taken even one step in the direction of the dungeons, she'd've been not only hexed into oblivion but lucky that's all he'd done. Snape was quite contect to leave Potter his publicity.  
  
He wouldn't have minded being able to go into the Three Broomsticks for a glass of Firewhisky without having to ignore the whispers and not-quite-covert stares at his left forearm, though. That bit wouldn't, he mused, have been so bad.  
  
If there was an up side to this little... excursion, he thought that was probably it. This area in the south of Spain was largely Muggle; while there were wizarding establishments, such as the one he'd floo'ed into this afternoon, they were few and far between. Here, as long as Severus took pains to dress in Muggle fashion, he would avoid odd looks and whispers. For that, and that alone, he was perhaps a little - a very little, mind you, a truly miniscule amount - grateful to Albus. All in all, however, he thought this was one of the worst ideas Dumbledore had come up with yet. And considering it was Dumbledore he was speaking of, that was really saying quite a lot.  
  
His mood was not improved by the fact that he had no idea what sort of arrangements Dumbledore had made for his accomodations. If he had made any. At the moment all he had was an address. For all he knew, it could've been a drycleaners.  
  
***  
  
It was not, in fact, a drycleaners. It was a magnificent, almost palatial villa set into a massive hill. It looked for all the world as if it had hewn itself from the bedrock, and polished itself into it current state, gleaming immaculately in the sunlight. The front courtyard curved gracefully towards the front door, and held a beautiful fountain with water bubbling and flowing, catching the light and tossing it back, patterning dancing baubles of reflection on every surface. The door itself was intricately carved of thick, dark wood, majestic in its old age - it had clearly presided over the entrance for as long as the villa had been standing. Windows with panes of bubbled, uneven glass flanked the door, and above, a terrace protruded, creating a sheltered nook just beyond the entrance to the house. Plants flourished, foliage lining the walkways and growing everywhere there was a spot of earth to spare. Flowers sprung from every branch, and blooming vines trailed from the terrace railing above. Snape found such blatant displays of color distasteful. He brushed the hanging flowers aside and stepped towards the door. _Might as well find out what I'm in for_, he supposed, and knocked.  
  
There was a pause of several seconds before his knock was answered, presumably due to the fact that whoever was coming to the door had quite a distance to walk. Severus could see a figure approaching, blurry through the wavy glass of the windows. As it came closer, it grew more clear; he could now see it was a female figure... quite a figure, in fact; softly rounded hips narrowing slightly to a well defined waist. She was clothed in white, wavy honey brown hair shining like a halo above it all.  
  
_Perhaps Spain has some virtues to recommend it after all,_ thought Snape appreciatively.  
  
The the door opened, and whatever vaguely warm thoughts he might've been entertaining crashed down spectacularly around his feet.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Hermione Granger smiled at him. "Welcome to Granada."  
  
--  
  
A/N: This story was inspired by , by Suzanne Vega.  
  
The story is complete; chapters will be posted every few days for the next two to three weeks. I hope you enjoy. Please, if you liked it and especially if you didn't, leave a review. Plot bunnies feed on them, you know.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
* * *  
  
Several minutes later, Severus was sitting in the kitchen, still recovering from this latest blow. He wondered sadly why Dumbledore seemed so determined to make his life utterly miserable. What had he done to deserve this? Recently, anyway? Perhaps he could skip the whole process by throwing himself off of that convenient cliff face he'd seen on the way up. He gazed out the window speculatively. But no, knowing his luck he'd just end up back at Hogwarts, doomed to be a shadowy spectre haunting the corridors for the rest of time. Snape shuddered.  
  
Before he could think up either an escape or suitable revenge, Hermione entered the room. "Sorry about that, Professor." She walked over to the sink and began washing her hands. "I had been working on an experiment when you arrived and needed to put a stasis charm on it."  
  
"So I take it you are an accomplice in this latest plot of Dumbledore's, Miss Granger?" Snape levelled his best Intimidating Glare at her. She laughed. Hm. Perhaps the chit had picked up a backbone somewhere in the two years since her graduation.  
  
"Not quite so sinisterly as all that. Dumbledore did owl me last week to ask if I had room for a temporary visitor. And as I have this entire place practically to myself" - she indicated the villa around them with a sweeping gesture - "I figured there was no harm in having a little more company."  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't start blasting hexes as soon as you opened the door and saw me, then," he grumbled. He did manage to keep from voicing the opinion that it might be preferable to spending an extended amount of time here.  
  
"Well, I have to admit that I had an inkling it would be you. Tea?" He grunted his assent. "Dumbledore didn't specify of whom he was speaking, but if anyone ever needed a vacation, Professor, it's you."  
  
"In the interest of preserving a reasonably peaceful domestic environment, Miss Granger, I will endeavor to forget that impudent remark." She attempted to assume a contrite expression and placed two teacups on the table. Snape eyed them with mild surprise. "Will Mr. Weasley not be joining us for tea?"  
  
"Ron? No, why would he?" Hermione seemed confused.  
  
"He is not staying here with you? I had assumed... but... oh, dear God." All the color drained from Snape's face. "Don't tell me... not Potter?" Visions of paparazzi flooding the gardens outside filled Snape's head. He could see the headlines now... 'Hogwarts Professor caught in Spanish love nest with Boy Who Lived and top graduate! Inquiry into scholastic immorality imminent!' He stood up quickly. "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Granger, but I find I have a pressing engagement to curse the bloody hell out of a doddering old wizard. Perhaps some other time." He prepared to sweep out of the room in top vampire-bat form.  
  
"Professor, please sit down." She took a seat herself at the table. "Harry isn't here either. He and Ron have visited me for a few days in the past, but I have no one else staying with me at the moment. Nor do I plan to."  
  
Snape sat down again somewhat uneasily. He had assumed Hermione to be romantically involved with one of the two; most of the Professors at Hogwarts had. Minerva and Poppy were not infrequently seen together, sighing over the prospect of a curly-haired little Potter (or Weasley, for that matter) being sorted in fifteen years or so. Snape found himself slightly ill at the prospect. Snapping back to attention, he noticed Hermione looking at him with an odd expression. He asked, "Then might I inquire to whom you referred earlier when you said you had the house 'practically' to yourself?"  
  
Hermione smiled. "My cat, of course. Crookshanks!" she called through the doorway into the next room. "He's the only man in my life at the moment," she said fondly. An ancient, fat orange tomcat waddled slowly into the room. Hermione crouched and ruffled the fur behind its ear, cooing unintelligible nonsense syllables at it. It - or he, Snape conceded grudgingly - rubbed his head into Hermione's hand and purred blissfully. "Crookshanks," she addressed the cat quietly, "meet Professor Snape. He's going to be staying with us for a few days."  
  
Crookshanks shuffled over to the chair where Snape was sitting. Standing toe-to-toe, the Kneazle gazed up at the man who was sneering down at him, sizing him up. A weaker man might have shrunk back beneath that orange glare, but Snape was particularly accustomed to appraising staredowns. Finally, Crookshanks, it seemed, had composed his opinion. The cat sat back on his haunches, quite deliberately flicked his tail twice, and sprang onto the very surprised Potion Master's lap. Snape was too shocked to move as Crookshanks turned around twice, kneaded the robes beneath him with his paws, and settled down, letting out a tiny, ridiculous 'mew'.  
  
Snape sputtered. "Miss Granger, I really must protest..." Hermione was already scooping the cat up off his lap, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide her laughter.  
  
"Sorry, Professor... I've never seen him warm up to anyone so quickly before... seems he's taken quite a shine to you." She dropped Crookshanks in the other room and shut the door.  
  
"I can't imagine why," Snape said while picking strands of coarse yellow hair off his robes. "Animals have never been fond of me - a fact, I assure you, I have rarely regretted."  
  
"Crookshanks isn't what you'd call a normal cat, Professor. He sees things a lot of people don't." She poured tea in Snape's cup and glanced up at him through the fragrant, rising steam. "Seems like he's found something in you he likes."  
  
* * *  
  
Fifteen minutes, one cup of tea, and (in Snape's opinion) far too much small talk later, Snape had learned that Hermione's parents had moved to America and were doing quite well, thank you; that Harry was now living with Remus Lupin and quite enjoying a life out from under the threatening shadow of Voldemort; that Ron was attending a wizarding university on a Quidditch scholarship and dating a different girl every weekend (Hermione related this bit of information with a fond roll of the eyes, which seemed to confirm Snape's opinion that she did not regret their lack of romantic involvement), and that Hermione herself was studying Potions and Arithmancy at Cambridge, and undertook an independent study project over the summer, which brought her to Spain. Snape, for his part, reluctantly contributed that his life was going "as well as can be expected." Curiously, his coworkers were also "as well as can be expected", as were the new students at Hogwarts and his academic pursuits outside of the school. In fact, it seemed the only thing that was not as well as could be expected was Professor Dumbledore himself, who when Hermione brought him up, was met with a hard stare and stony silence. She'd changed the subject quickly.  
  
When the tea has been finished and the cups washed and put away, they stood in a rather awkward silence. Finally Hermione spoke. "Would you like to see the work I've been doing here?"  
  
Snape realized with no small amount of surprise that he actually would. "I must confess to curiosity about what sort of research necessitates moving halfway across a continent to accomplish."  
  
Hermione perked up, as if she'd been expecting him to refuse. "Come on, then - it's this way."   
  
To his surprise, she led him back the same way he'd come - through the front door. "Your labs are outside, Miss Granger?"  
  
"No, of course not - and please call me Hermione. 'Miss Granger' makes me feel too much like a schoolgirl again. By the way, you'll want to leave your robes here - it's quite warm out tonight." As she turned away to lead him further down the path Snape noticed again the silhouette he'd seen through the window. 'No, Hermione,' he thought as he shed his heavy school robes, revealing well-tailored trousers and a black buttondown shirt. 'A schoolgirl you most definitely are not.'  
  
--  
  
A/N: One more chapter tonight, just to introduce the SS/HG interaction. Another will follow in a few days. Please review! I'm trying to get steam up to continue a WIP I began far too long ago, and reviews definitely help.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
* * *  
  
They stopped in a meticulously maintained garden about 100 meters from the house. Flowering bushes and trees lined the path; all were in the process of blooming, opened flowers wafting fragrance through the cooling air. Snape stopped. "Miss Granger, I have no doubt that all this is quite charming to one who enjoys that sort of thing, but I fail to see why you have dragged me out here under the pretense of showing me your 'work'."  
  
"This is my work, Severus." He raised his eyebrows at the use of his given name. She raised hers back in teasing mockery. Clearly the days of her being easily intimidated by him were long past. He was strangely disappointed by this fact. Stubbornly, he folded his arms.  
  
"Show me, then." And she did. Crouching beside a low bush that sported brilliant crimson blossoms, she cupped her hands around a still-green bud. She closed her eyes and exhaled, and Severus felt a palpable frission of energy tremble through the air. He blinked and refocused on Hermione, who opened her eyes and released from her hands a fully opened, perfectly formed flower.  
  
Even Snape had to admit to being impressed by that. He was relatively sure that even Professor Sprout, with her decades of experience, had never even witnessed something like that, nevermind actually performed it.  
  
"Impressive. I assume it is some form of transfiguration - but wandless... I've never seen anything quite like it." Hermione seemed to mistake this simple statement of fact for flattery, and blushed.  
  
"It's not transfiguration at all, and there's no call to be impressed - not by me, anyway. You could do the same thing - hell, Neville Longbottom could, for that matter. It's not me, Severus, it's this place- can't you feel it? Couldn't you sense it when you first stepped onto the ground? There's magic in everything - the air, the water, the earth, even the sunlight. Elemental magic."  
  
Severus had crouched next to the bush and was examining the flower that Hermione had bloomed. There seemed to be nothing to distinguish it from the flowers surrounding it, besides the fact that minutes before it'd been a week or more away from blooming naturally. "Show me what you did, Miss Granger. Slowly this time."  
  
"I told you, it's Hermione. And I didn't do anything... it's Mother Nature. Or Gaia, or the Goddess, whatever you want to call her. It's the same things he's been doing since time began... only sped up a little. " Snape scoffed at the understatement. "It's not a conscious act on my part. I think she's using me, like a wizard uses his wand, to focus and direct power. It's something about this place that lets her do it. I went back to Britain and tried; stood there for a few minutes with my hand stuck in a bush feeling foolish. Anyway, look, you really have to try it for yourself." With that, she took his hands in hers and knelt across from where he was still crouched by the bush.  
  
Her hands covering his much larger ones as best they could, she pressed them together around a puckered green bud. She closed her eyes, and Snape, feeling quite certain that nothing was going to happen, closed his as well. There was a moment where he was all too conscious of the warmth of her palms cupped around his, but that was forgotten as he felt a rush of pure magical energy flood through his veins. It concentrated in the tips of his fingers and his palms; he half expected to see them glow when he opened his eyes. Instead, when he parted his hands, he saw a fully bloomed flower released from between them.  
  
For once in his life, Severus Snape was speechless.  
  
Wordlessly, he looked up at Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed and she was grinning broadly and openly at him, as if expecting him to ebulliently gush over the experience. Her hands, he suddenly became aware, were still cupped around his. Abruptly he withdrew them and stood up, turning away.  
  
"Severus...?" She seemed concerned. Not too concerned, he hoped; the only thing worse than being Albus Dumbledore's pet project was being Hermione Granger's.  
  
"It's been a very long time, Hermione, since anything of beauty has come from these hands," he said quietly. She did not know what to say to this. After a moment, he turned back. "I believe you were going to show me your laboratory?"  
  
She shook herself slightly. "Yes, yes of course. I'll apparate us, it'll be much easier that way." She stepped up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. Looking down into her strangely solemn eyes, he blinked and they disappeared.  
  
***  
  
After overcoming the momentary disorientation that accompanies every apparation, Snape found himself staring directly into Hermione Granger's eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, and surprisingly it was she who stepped away first, dropping her hands from his shoulders and turning away to show him the room.  
  
"This is it... not much, but it's mine." Severus could not have imagined a lab more different from his own in the depths of Hogwarts if he'd tried. The room itself was rather small, clearly designed for no more than two or three researchers. The work tables were hewn from flawless white marble, apparently spelled to protect against burns and stains. The floors were similarly gleaming, and the walls were lined with set-in shelves holding options ingredients and equipment organized, catalogued, and cross-referenced in every possible way.  
  
But the room's most arresting element was the wall farthest from the door. It appeared to be constructed completely out of glass, with shelves from floor to ceiling. Lined up on each of the shelves were uniform vials of liquid, each stained a different, brilliant hue. The light shining through them bounced off the walls and ceiling, creating a riot of color in the otherwise serene space. Snape walked over and picked up a vial, inspecting its contents.  
  
"They're all liquids distilled from local plants and flowers," Hermione said. "They're naturally colorless; inert dyes make them easier to identify on sight and don't change their properties in a potion." She ran her fingers of the top of a line of vials, sweeping away non-existent specks of dust. "Plants here have distinct elements that aren't found anywhere else in the wizarding world. Elements that only grow stronger as they're exposed to the sunlight. This wall is spelled to remain in direct sunlight all day." Snape raised his eyebrows incredulously. She shrugged. "After attending a school whose staircases rearranged themselves at will, I suppose I don't find anything strange anymore. In any case, some of these samples have been aging since I arrived two months ago. I've started testing them in combination with more standard ingredients to see how the finished potions are affected." She motioned towards a series of cauldrons on one of the worktables.  
  
Severus was intrigued in spite of himself. His... extracurricular pursuits when he was this age had left him with neither time nor freedom to pursue an independent research opportunity such as this. He clasped his hands behind his back and moved over to peer into the cauldrons. "Show me what you've found."  
  
They worked together in the room for a length of time both would've been surprised to learn. Initially Hermione showed Severus the experiments that she'd yet to complete; when there was nothing left to show, they took turns prodding the cauldrons and making observations. Eventually they lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional 'excuse me' as they reached for the same piece of equipment.  
  
***  
  
Hermione studied Severus inconspicuously as they worked. He was an entirely different person when he let the Potions Master persona drop, she thought. He retained his intensity, his focus, but lost the aura of malice and superiority he usually kept wrapped tight around him like a security blanket. Utterly absorbed in his work, his face was intent yet curiously relaxed, almost at peace. She'd seen this side of him only once before, during her seventh year, when the teachers and students had begun working side-by-side in order to find a way to defeat Voldemort once and for all. More than one afternoon had passed in this way, working together - along with five or six other students, she reminded herself. And back then he hadn't pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, exposing lean, muscled forearms, flexing as he worked... Whoa, girl, she reminded herself. It would not do to have impure thoughts about one's former professor. Especially not while working around open flame. Especially not here. She wasn't sure she completely trusted the magic that seemed to radiate from every atom in this place. Already she could feel it affecting her in subtle ways; for instance, her new insistence on calling Snape - Severus, rather - by his first name. Where had that impulse come from, she wondered, and suddenly felt rather foolish. Ah well. No use dwelling on it now. The Goddess, she ruefully thought, might be turning out to have a matchmaking streak uncomfortably similar to Albus Dumbledore's.  
  
After a time, she realized she was squinting to see the precipitate in the beaker she was stirring, and glanced towards the horizon. Beyond the rows and columns of vials, the sun burned dim and firey as it sank swiftly behind the hills. She stood up and stretched the aching muscles in her lower back.  
  
"Professor?" she said quietly, not wanting to startle him out of a deep concentration. He looked up from his position bent over the table, blinking slightly. "I think it's time to call it quits for tonight."  
  
Severus stood up to his full height, suddenly formal. "I suppose you are right." He paused for a moment, apparently in indecision. "I can find nothing immediately wrong with your work here."  
  
Hermione fought a smile. "I believe I'll take that as a compliment." She took her cauldron over to the glossy white sink set into the wall. "I've had the house elves take your luggage to your room. Are you hungry? I can have them bring you up something if you'd like."  
  
"That will not be necessary. House elves, Miss Granger?" he asked, a smirk lurking around the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Yes, house elves. I am no longer the idealistic girl I was five years ago. But you needn't look so smug - tomorrow is, after all, their day off." And for the first time in her life, Hermione swept out of the room before her former Professor.  
  
--  
  
A/N: Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to review - JennyRad, Javen Green, GeekGoddess1, arcessita, Nemesys, Hawklaw, ifthisisreal, Sidra elf, Snapelover, HunnySnowBunny, samson, Art, Jolene, Skjeve, Ophelia, Lisa Meunier, and LauraW. I hope to continue my earlier WIP, Close Your Eyes, but I believe I am going to take it in a different direction than previously planned, and thus it will require some major replanning. It should be updated sometime in January. In any case, this fic is helping me to get my creative juices flowing again, and reviews always help! Thank you so much!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
* * *  
  
An hour later, Hermione was curled up in a soft chair before the fireplace in her bedroom, nursing a cup of tea. She'd shown Severus to his rooms half an hour before, and managed to ignore the strange implications of bidding a former professor (whom she might have found, perhaps, a little, tiny bit attractive) goodnight at his bedroom door. And now she was thinking about him, feeling faintly ridiculous and very, very serious all at the same time.  
  
This was the first time she'd had company in her laboratory since she arrived. Surprisingly, she'd not found it as uncomfortable as she might've anticipated. Ordinarily someone touching her meticulously prepared and conducted experiments would've seemed uncomfortably similar to a person plunging both hands into her underwear drawer and rooting around - unbearably invasive. However, with Snape it hadn't been like that. There had been an implicit sort of trust, at least in regards to his brewing skills. She wasn't sure she at all trusted the glint in his eye she sometimes caught when he didn't think she was looking. The thought sent a delicious chill down her spine.  
  
Hermione set her cup down on the table. Definitely time for bed, she thought. You've been alone here too long, old girl. You're nearly ready to jump the first man to walk through your door, even if he is twenty years your senior and, oh yeah, an absolute bloody git besides.  
  
And yet, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind, he hasn't really acted much like his old self since he arrived. He'd been sarcastic, yes; she rather thought Severus Snape without the snark would be like a Hippogriff without its beak. But he hadn't been gratuitously cruel, or made any derogatory reference to her Muggle heritage. Hermione had realized after Voldemort fell just how much of Snape's persona had been a performance. Once he was no longer obligated to keep up appearances for Voldemort and his minions the most repellant aspects of his peronality had faded. Oh, he was still a Slytherin through and through, no mistake. But now the sharp intellect and biting wit were unclouded by ugly malice and cruelty. Hermione's mental picture of him was all angles; a fall of black hair cutting a line across that strong-featured face, a sweep of sharply-pressed robes, the crisp angle of his shoulders silhouetted against a window as he stood unmoving.  
  
Hermione doused the fire and climbed into bed. As her consciousness faded, the image that stayed with her was that of Snape's strong figure, outlined by glowing white winter light.  
  
* * *  
  
The morning bloomed bright and dewy. Hermione loved this time of the day more than any other, when moisture still hung on the leaves and in the air before the sun had had a chance to burn it away. She'd made a habit of waking up early enough to enjoy it. Therefore, she'd had time enough to shower and dress by the time Severus Snape stumbled into the kitchen, eyes squinched shut.  
  
"Good morning!" she chirped brightly. Snape glared as best he could from behind closed eyelids.  
  
"For gods' sake, woman, have you no sense of mercy? Coffee. Now." With anyone else Hermione would've waited for a 'please' but somehow with this particular guest she thought she'd be waiting well into the afternoon. Picking the largest mug from the cupboard, she filled it to the brim with steaming brew and set it in front of him.  
  
After several large sips, Snape's eyes slowly cracked open and he loosened his death grip on the mug. Hermione, meanwhile, was grinning down at his feet. He followed her gaze and saw what she was smiling at: an orange tomcat who was currently twining itself about his feet in quite an undignified manner, purring all the while. Snape glared. "I do not," he said, "want to talk about it. And I'll thank you to keep that bloody cat in your room at night from now on!"   
  
Hermione composed herself and nodded quite seriously. Turning back to the eggs she'd been beating before he came in, she asked "Does this mean you won't be disapparating as soon as you've had a proper breafast, Professor? I have to admit I'm rather surprised."  
  
"I have been... advised that it would not be prudent for me to return to Hogwarts before I am instructed." Hermione understood at once. "But you needn't worry, I don't intend to make a nuisance of myself."  
  
"Oh." Hermione was somewhat surprised to feel her stomach drop a bit. His company couldn't make that much difference to her already, could it? Apparently the answer, despite her best judgement, was yes. "I take it you won't be accompanying me out today, then." She was unable to gauge his reaction immediately, but was not yet willing to let him see whatever reactions showed on her face.  
  
"I did not think you'd wish me to." His voice was carefully neutral.  
  
"I'd just thought... well, it gets awfully quiet around here... and it was so good to actually have someone to work with..." She realized she was babbling and fell silent.  
  
"I'm surprised you'd voluntarily spend any time with your evil git of an exprofessor," Snape said. "You're not afraid I'm going to poison your eggs or levitate you over that cliff out there?"  
  
"I never thought you were evil." He snorted. No, really! she protested. "Well, fine, maybe my first year, for a while. But I was eleven, for god's sake! And you hardly did anything to discourage that impression, did you?" She glared at him (though only half-seriously) with her hands on her hips.  
  
"Besides saving Potter's life half a dozen times over the years? No, you're completely right, I was Grindelwald reincarnate." He drained his mug and set it down loudly.  
  
Hermione was quiet now, her face devoid of its earlier teasing mirth. She looked him in the eyes. "I always appreciated what you did for him. For all of us." She laid a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened slightly but did not move to remove it. "I should have said it before, I know, but thank you." After a few moments she moved away towards the stove, taking the eggs off the heat. "You were a right git, though, you've got to admit that," she said over her shoulder as she divided the food onto two plates.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger, I do make such an effort." She snickered and set down the plate in front of him. They ate mostly in silence, passing the salt and pepper occasionally. When both plates were cleared (fairly quickly - both had forgotten dinner the previous evening) they sat there for a moment before Hermione spoke.  
  
"Look, do you think we could just... start again? Leave Hogwarts and Voldemort and Harry behind us. I'll be Hermione and you'll be Severus, and we'll make the best of it. I'd much rather spend the day showing you the city than sniping and having you try to give me detention."  
  
Snape considered for a moment. "That sounds... acceptable." Hermione smiled. "But do not for one moment think that this means you may take liberties, Hermione. I can still take points from Gryffindor for your impudence."  
  
"You can not."  
  
"I assure you, I very well can."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"Wench."  
  
Hermione cracked up, and, for the first time in a very long time, Severus Snape laughed long and deeply.  
  
--  
  
A/N:


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
* * *  
  
An hour later, they were walking down the trail from the house, conversing about Hermione's work and discussing the plants that grew along their path. Severus had left his robes behind on Hermione's advice, as they'd be traveling through several largely Muggle areas and didn't want to attract undue attention. He was, then, dressed simply in a white shirt with black slacks, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow in a concession to the heat.  
  
It was strange, Snape thought. He hadn't spent time with a person who wasn't a colleague or family member in so long he'd forgotten there was an alternative. Neither, for that matter, had anyone unobligated to him expressed any interest in spending time together. And yet here he was, walking (in Spain, of all places) with a bright and admittedly beautiful young woman who was talking animatedly about a subject that actually, wonder of wonders, interested him. Snape vaguely thought to pinch himself, but no; were he dreaming, surely his mind would not have concocted a creature who cooked as abominably as Hermione Granger apparently did. His stomach flipped over at the memory of breakfast.  
  
Wait. What in the world was he thinking? How, in the space of less than twenty-four hours, had this Dumbledore-imposed exile become a pleasant retreat? And how could he possibly be thinking of a bossy Gryffindor chit who'd tormented him for seven years of Potions classes as an intellectual equal - and a desirable one, no less?  
  
"Because it is," an annoying little voice whispered inside him. "And she is. And it would serve us well, you giant repressed bat, if you would pull your wand out of your arse for one afternoon and let us have some fun!" Snape, not for the first time, considered hexing that voice out of himself at whatever cost. Only the memory of Lockhart kept him from turning his wand on himself.  
  
And yet... what would be the harm, he wondered, in letting his guard down, just for a while. If worst came to worst, he could simply threaten the girl into silence and return to Hogwarts as if nothing had happened. And if it went well... well. He'd been Snape for so long, he thought it might be rather novel to try just being Severus again.  
  
It was definitely something in the air, Snape decided. And, apparently, the water. And sun... His internal monologue trailed off as he realized Hermione was looking at him rather expectantly. Oh dear. Had she really been talking all this time? "Uh, right. Yes. I agree completely." He nodded emphatically for good measure.  
  
"You agree completely that Percy Weasley is actually half-Veela and currently happily raising a brood of triplets with Marcus Flint in Venezuela. Okay." Snape had the good grace to color slightly - albeit very slightly. "Lost in thought, were we?"  
  
"I suppose." When he did not elucidate, she raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
"Sickle for your thoughts, then?" she prodded.  
  
"I assure you, Hermione, my thoughts are worth a great deal more than that." He quirked the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.  
  
"I have," she dug around in a battered pouch she'd attached to a leather thong, which wrapped several times around her waist before tying in a secure knot, "three Galleons, thirteen Sickles and twenty-one Knuts. You'll have to take my word on the rest, I'm afraid, unless you accept Muggle money?..."  
  
He waved his hand at the small pile of coins stacked in her palm. "Thinking, that's all. About nothing in particular." She looked skeptical but did not press the issue. Hoping to fill the silence, Severus spoke. "So, we spoke of this earlier but never finished. What do you plan to do after you finish your education?"  
  
She shrugged. "I haven't really thought that far, actually. People assume that I've had my career planned since the owl arrived with my Hogwarts letter, or else that I'll be following Harry into Auror training, but really I've no idea. I suppose I've always assumed that one day I'll end up back at Hogwarts, instructing one subject or another. Not Potions, of course," she demurred, "but I'm certainly qualified to teach Muggle Studies, or perhaps Arithmancy when Professor Vector is ready to retire."  
  
Severus stopped short. Hermione turned back to look at him. "Do not let your life slip away from you inside the walls of Hogwarts, Hermione. It may be a great aspiration, more than the vast majority of wizards will ever achieve, but it is not for a mind like yours. You belong somewhere that you can do more than teach others what has been taught to you; you belong in a place where you can allow the world to unfold its secrets to you - a place like this. Hothouse flowers never fully bloom. Do not resign yourself to that fate."  
  
They began walking again in silence, Hermione wondering if she had actually started to hallucinate and Severus feeling much more at ease than he would have expected after such a speech. After a moment he spoke again.  
  
"And if you ever dare mention what I've just said to anyone, your children's children will be serving detention in the dungeons until after they've graduated." He glared for good measure.  
  
She nodded seriously and then, inexplicably, blushed beet-red and scurried ahead. Women, Severus sighed to himself, and followed.  
  
* * *  
  
It was only a short time before they reached a bustling marketplace. Rows of vendor stalls lined the walkways, and shoppers wizard and Muggle alike streamed through the airy square, pausing at this stand or that kiosk. Hermione fished a perfect miniature wicker basket from the depths of her pouch, and with a flick of her wand enlarged it so it could carry a decent amount of whatever she needed to pick up. She hooked it over her elbow and turned to Severus. "I've got to pick up some more herbs and things for my lab, ones that I can't grow myself; you're welcome to stay with me or go off on your own. The square isn't so big that we should have trouble finding each other again." Severus nodded and they walked together into the crowd. She seemed to be shopping for rather mundane ingredients, and he doubted she'd need help, so he was unconcerned when she stopped at a booth and he continued on his own.  
  
Snape had never been one for crowds or company. Most people assumed that this was because of a basic misanthropy, and while he could not deny that he harbored a touch of disdain for the human condition, it was not nearly to the extent that others believed. Rather, he was merely resistant to the fact that, more often than not, when he allowed people into his immediate vicinity they, sooner or later, they wanted something from him. And usually, it was nothing he wanted to give. Eventually he learned that if he avoided human company, he avoided all the messiness that accompanied it. So, he'd kept to himself, and been... calm. Calm, if not exactly happy. He rather thought that, at this late stage, happiness was beyond him.  
  
In any case, he paid no mind to the crowds filling this Spanish market square. If he kept to himself, they'd likely ignore him entirely, and even on the off chance that someone spoke to him, he could quite convincingly pretend not to understand. Of course he'd applied the translation charm as soon as he and Hermione had left, but no one would know that. So he wandered from booth to booth, observing the people and the bustling vibrancy that surrounded him. Here and there he would stop to crush an herb between his fingers or determine the quality of an ingredient he normally had to have imported at no small cost. When he found something especially noteworthy, he purchased a small amount with the Muggle money he'd found conveniently tucked into his suitcase, reduced it and stowed it in a pocket. He was surprised to learn, upon meeting up with Hermione some time later, that he'd managed to while away an entire hour.  
  
Hermione, for her part, had done quite well for herself, it seemed; the basket hanging from her arm was brimming with all sorts of greenery and vegetation. She clearly enjoyed these excursions; the solitude of her study had taken its toll, Severus could see. Must have, if she was willing - even eager - to spend time with him. "Have you found everything you needed?" He took her by the elbow, almost unconsciously, as they walked.  
  
"Yes, just about. There's one stall I always stop at last... ah, here." She paused in front of a relatively spacious booth, where a wizened, ancient crone perched on a tall stool.  
  
"Hermione... it's lovely to see you again, girl." The woman's voice certainly betrayed her age, creaking as if it was becoming a strain for her vocal cords to flex as they once did. Yet Severus did not think her to be a doddering, senile spinster; there was an intelligence in her eyes no number of years could dull. She raised her hands as Hermione approached, and embraced her.  
  
"Rosa, you look wonderful. Have you anything good for me today?"  
  
"Mayhap, mayhap. But first you must introduce me to your friend..." Rosa, as Hermione had called her, hopped off her stool with surprising agility and made her way to where Severus stood. With one brown, crooked finger she beckoned him down. Somewhat uncertainly, he bent, bringing his head nearer to hers. She grasped his chin in a strong, uncompromising grip, and turned his face from side to side, inspecting it. Her fingers pressed his cheekbones and traveled to his hair, tugging lightly on the roots and stroking through its length. Finally, she seemed satisfied, and with a soft 'hmmph' released him and stepped away.  
  
"So very dark... and yet there is light left in you yet," she said softly. She rummaged for a few seconds in a basket that sat by her feet, and emerged with a bundle of woody, fragrant stalks. "This is for you," she said, and pressed the herb to his chest. "Rosemary, for remembrance. You do well to remember what life has taught you, but you must also take care. The past should not rule your future; remember, accept, and move on. There is happiness ahead of you, happiness you have not dared to hope for yourself. Recognize it when it opens its arms to you, and the world will be yours." Severus did not speak when she stepped away. His conscious mind scoffed - must be some relation to Trelawney, it said - and yet her words had struck some chord deep inside him. She would not, he realized, be so easily dismissed. The witch - for Severus was now sure that was what she was; no Muggle would speak like that - had turned her attention to Hermione.  
  
"You've chosen well, girl. Few take the trouble to see things for what they are, but those who do will reap the rewards. All the happiness in the world to you, child." Rosa smiled and held her gnarled hand to Hermione's cheek, who blushed and stammered.  
  
"Rosa, I'm afraid you've - well, you see, we're not - I mean, that is to say, he isn't my..." Hermione trailed off and looked at Rosa beseechingly, willing her to understand.  
  
"Oh, is he not, then?" Rosa looked for all the world like a benevolent grandmother humoring her young progeny. She cast a wink back to the other old woman that sat beside her, who merely chuckled and turned back to her work. Rosa clambered back onto her stool. She took Hermione's hands in hers. "Have a lovely day, child."  
  
Hermione smiled at the ancient woman with genuine affection. "I'll see you next week, Rosa."  
  
Rosa chuckled. "Mayhap you will and mayhap you won't, girl." She pulled Hermione towards her with a surprisingly strong grip and, like a benediction, kissed her on the forehead. "My blessing goes with you all the same."  
  
--  
  
A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers! Sorry this is a bit late - it's finals week and I've been practically living in the library. Next chapter in three or four days.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
* * *  
  
Neither knew quite what to say about what had just happened, and so they said nothing, continuing on their way in silence for several minutes. The marketplace and its noise disappeared on the path behind them, and soon they were left with only their thoughts and each other. Discomfited by the silence, Hermione spoke up. "I bought some food for lunch; there's a garden not too far from here, one of my favorites. I thought we'd stop there and eat before heading back." When Severus didn't answer, Hermione continued. "I'm sorry about back there... I don't know why Rosa assumed... I mean, silly really, isn't it?" She laughed weakly.  
  
Snape's jaw clenched involuntarily. "Yes, absolutely ridiculous, Miss Granger. Can't understand why anyone would think that you'd even deign to consider the greasy old Potions Master as anything other than the professor who tormented you through seven years of school. I'd imagine you can't wait to get back home and floo up Potter and Weasley for a bloody good laugh about it." He increased his pace, wanting to put as much distance as he could between himself and that meddling old woman who'd made a shambles of everything.  
  
Hermione's face was stricken. "That isn't what I meant... Severus, you've got to..." He continued walking briskly. "Severus, please." He stopped and turned towards her, still unwilling to look her in the eyes. "What I meant was that it was silly to think you'd ever see me as anything more than a buck-toothed, know-it-all little girl. I know you don't want to be here, I know that, but I wanted to enjoy your company for as long as I could. I'm sorry if I've made a mess of it." She bit her lip and, suddenly, seemed very small. Severus put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, low enough that she might've missed it. After a few moments of tense silence, they continued on their way, each stealing sideways glances at the other and looking away quickly when they thought they'd be caught. In that same low voice, so quiet Hermione later wondered if she'd imagined it, he said "You're much more than a little girl, Hermione. And you'd have to be less observant than I not to know that."  
  
She didn't know how to respond, and after a few minutes of blushing anxiety slipped her arm in his. He did not remove it.  
  
***  
  
"This is it. El Carmen de los Martires - the Carmen of the Martyrs." Hermione dropped his arm and stepped forward into the mottled shade of the garden. "It's not very much compared to some of the other gardens in the area, but for some reason it's become one of my favorite places. When I first moved here I would come and sit, for hours sometimes." Severus ducked underneath a low hanging palm branch and entered the garden. Immediately, he was refreshed; it seemed at least ten degrees cooler under the shade of the trees, by one of the numerous fountains that burbled contentedly. Statues were seemingly everywhere he looked; he stepped closer to one of them in order to get a better view.  
  
Hermione came up beside him. "A saint - one of the martyrs this place was named for, I suppose." He touched the rough edge of the stone that bounded the neck and wrists - where there should have been palms and a face, there was nothing. The broken stone had been smoothed by the weather, he could tell; apparently the statue had been missing its appendages for some time. Hermione saw the question in his touch and continued. "Many of the statues here are missing their heads and hands - people would break them off and take them home, for good luck."  
  
Now that he looked around, he saw that nearly every statue was indeed missing its head and hands, painting a rather gruesome image amidst the innocuous beauty of the garden. "I'll leave you to explore for a while, then," Hermione said, laying a hand on his upper arm and squeezing gently, familiarly. "Come find me when you're ready for a bit of lunch, will you?" And she was off, leaving him to himself and the foliage.  
  
Severus watched her walk away, and realized that he'd spent the greater part of four or five hours in her company and hadn't once wished to be somewhere else. He was surprised at himself; he wasn't aware there was anyone alive whom he could tolerate that well. No, not just tolerate - actively enjoy, as difficult as it might be to believe.  
  
Merlin, what had happened to him? Not even twenty four hours away from Britain and he was fifteen bloody years old again, mooning over a girl who'd never look at him twice. Had he learned nothing? Apparently not; he seemed determine to repeat his past until it finally killed him. And perhaps good riddance.  
  
But... it wasn't really like last time, was it? This one seemed to like spending time with him, she'd even said as much. And he was not, thankfully, the same as he'd been twenty-five years ago. He'd learned a lot since then - too much, some would say.  
  
_And she's not Lily_, he reminded himself. Besides the similarities - Gryffindor, taste in friends, sharp mind - there were some very significant differences as well. Lily had never had the same drive that Hermione exhibited, the same passion or spirit. And ostensibly, Hermione did not have that grand destiny to fulfill. For that he was profoundly thankful.  
  
He watched her walk idly among the trees, trailing her fingers in the clear, icy water pooling at the base of a trickling fountain. The curls cascading down her back caught the sunlight, throwing it back at him in riots of mahogany and auburn. No, she wasn't Lily. She was Hermione. Beautiful, brilliant, stubborn Hermione, who would never be easy or retiring or simple, and who would never expect him to be any of those things. He groaned, and put his head in his hands. What in the world was he getting himself into?  
  
When he looked up again, after a minute or two, he was mildly surprised to see Hermione was not alone. Surprise quickly turned to alarm as he realized she did not know the young man who was grasping her wrist and speaking to her in rapid fire Spanish. Severus was already striding quickly towards her when she wrenched her arm away from him and took a step backwards, trying to think of what she could say to persuade him she had no interest in leaving with him.  
  
Snape barely had time to think before stepping up behind her, placing his palm on the small of her back and murmuring "Hello, darling," in her ear. She turned, eyes widening in surprise, and the only thought he was conscious of before pressing his lips to hers was _oh, bloody hell.   
_  
He felt the muscles in her back tense under his hand briefly. Hoping she was not about to pull back and slap him, he rubbed a soft circle with his thumb over the taut muscles. She must've realized then what he was up to, as all tension melted away and she pressed herself to him, bringing one hand up to tangle in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. _Dear god_, he thought vaguely as her mouth yielded beneath his and her tongue hesitantly touched his lips, _seems the girl's a method actor_. And then all thought was lost, as he opened his mouth to meet her.  
  
Reluctantly (a bit too reluctantly, an observer might have noted) he pulled back slightly, brushing her lips with his as he asked "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" But the young man was already backing away, apparently having decided that even a prize like the girl was not worth challenging a man as dangerous-looking as that one.  
  
Hermione and Severus disentangled themselves, smoothing disheveled hair and looking everywhere but at each other. Severus coughed slightly; he could still taste her on his lips.  
  
Finally she looked up at him. "I could've taken care of him myself, you know. He was only a Muggle and I had my wand."  
  
"I am aware. I had simply thought to offer my... assistance." He could not help smiling slightly at the understatement.  
  
"Well, thank you." After a moment, "You do know you could have pretended to be my chaperone, or something. That probably wasn't strictly necessary."  
  
"I'd thought of that." He did not elaborate.  
  
She was silent for a moment. "Let's eat, shall we?"  
  
--  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I'm taking a break after this chapter, just for a little while - long enough to get through finals and the premiere of RoTK, anyway. I'll see you all next week with the new chapter.   



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